


Someone

by bmnugent



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Fluff, LOL Yen sets the bed on fire, Romance, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 09:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmnugent/pseuds/bmnugent
Summary: What it must be like, to share a life with someone you love.





	Someone

**Author's Note:**

> So I had these little prompts in my head that I desperately needed to write, or else I was going to go crazy. Seeing as how much you all enjoyed my last little one-shot, I decided to post this. There's only three, but I think they're cute little moments that could possibly happen. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, and enjoy!

Tiptoeing up the staircase, she can hear the sloshing of water in the copper tub. She had to admit that domesticated life in Corvo Bianco was a bit duller than she had imagined, but things were calmer here… life moved at a slower pace, and she was okay with that. 

Tightening her grip on the towel wrapped around her bare body, she gently places her tiny hand against the heavy wood of the door that separates her from him. Pushing carefully, as to not make any noise, she steps onto the warm, damp tile. Steam still rises from the soapy water. He had always liked piping hot baths.

He hears her bare feet against the floor coming from behind him, followed by the airy sound of her towel flowing to the ground. His bath couldn’t have gotten any better, he thinks, as he feels her arms slide over his shoulders, hands trailing down his wet chest. She leans forward, her breasts pressing against his broad back, and his eyes slip into the back of his head. 

Instead of feeling her cascade of curls against his cheek, he only feels her soft lips as she whispers against his skin, near the corner of his mouth.

“Room for one more?”

Tilting his head to the side, he notices how elegantly her hair had been swept up to rest in a messy updo on the top of her head. He smiles.

“For you? Always.”

She rounds the tub, unashamed of her nakedness, and slowly dips one foot in. She hisses as the scalding water touches her skin, and he watches with a crooked grin until she fully submerges herself, her smooth legs sliding against his muscular ones.

“Will cooler water not suffice?”

“You of all people should know I’m not particularly a fan of cooler water.” 

One foot, with small toes, comes up out of the water to poke him in his sides, earning a chuckle from him. He grabs her foot, letting her heel rest against his chest as his own fingers begin to work out the knots and cramps of the arch. 

“Oh,” she murmurs, letting her head fall back against the edge of the tub, and closing her eyes to enjoy every last pinch and pull of his fingers. “Do continue,” she urges, fanning her small toes when his thumb presses against the inside of her foot. After a while, he switches to her other foot, and she sighs in content.

“You spoil me, Geralt.”

“How else am I going to get you to stay here with me?”

“I told you.” She can feel the water growing cold, having been in the tub with him for quite some time, and lifts one soapy hand out from underneath the water. She mutters some incantation that he barely makes out, he watches as the amulet around her neck slightly pulsates, and watches as steam leaves the water once again. “I’m not going anywhere,” she finishes, struggling through a yawn as he continues massaging her foot.

Moments pass, and once she pulls her foot back, it slips under the water and brushes his hip. 

“Still liking the retirement,” he asks, shifting in the tub and spilling some of the water over the edge.

“Mmmm. It has it’s perks.” Opening her eyes, she catches the way he’s looking at her; like wanting to devour her whole, and it sparks a surge of desire in her. She feels the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach, the coiling of heat in the most intimate of places. Her skin is on fire… and it’s not from the water.

Pushing herself up on her hands, slowly, she glides through the water and crawls the small distance until her knees are pressed against the outsides of his thighs. The waterline barely reaches her bellybutton as she supports herself on her knees, and his own hands come out from the water to grip her hips. His hands, large and calloused, feel like they belong there, and his fingers are so long that he’s nearly able to intertwine them against the small of her back.

With her hair pulled up and pinned to the top of her head, only two small wisps of hair fall down to frame her pale face, and he’s positive she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Although telling her isn’t enough, in his mind. If there was a way to give Yennefer the world and all the special charms and wonders in it, he’d do it without hesitation. 

The smile that spreads her lips apart doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he’s sure that she’s read his mind… again.

“Witcher,” she draws the word out in a throaty moan, raising her arms until they rest on his shoulders, giving him a splendid view of her stunning breasts. “I don’t want the world. I want you. And that little firecracker of ours,” she adds in, mentioning their Ciri. 

“That… I can manage.”

She looks him in the eyes, violet colliding with dark gray, and he feels the leather tie that keeps his hair pulled back give way. Slowly, his white hair falls from the bundle and fans out around his face. Twirling the end of a lock of white hair, she looks upon his face and can only wonder what she had done to deserve such a handsome companion. 

“Yen.” Her name, the way no one else could ever say it, breaks her away from her thoughts. “Is this enough? Do I…” He trails off, apprehensive about how insecure and ridiculous he must sound. She sighs, slightly rolling her eyes at his concerns.

“I’m not fond of repeating myself, so listen carefully. You and that daughter of ours is all I need. All I want.” He nods at her words, pushing any other worries or thoughts from his mind. 

—

She had been in taverns and pubs before, unwillingly, but she had been. And she wasn’t a huge fan. But he had nearly begged her to accompany him, seeing as the rest of their oddly formed group would be at a local brewhouse for Dandelion’s birthday celebration. 

And even from a few paces away from the cabin, with the front door wide open, she could hear the undeniable strums from a particular lute. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as they passed other intoxicated patrons. She was just about to open her mouth to roar off a sarcastic remark, but she’s stopped by Geralt’s sudden halt.

“Thank you.” He says, in that ominous voice of his. “For coming with me,” he finishes, extending his arm for her to loop through his. She’s at a loss for words, and her parted lips that were just ready to insult and slander, curl up into a small grin. 

“And who said romance is dead,” she murmurs as they walk into the crowded, loud tavern. Dandelion spots them almost instantly, and puts a hurried finish on the current ballad. To the groans and protests, he still hops up from the wooden table and pushes his way past his guests to get to his long time friends. 

“Ah, Geralt. So glad you could make it. And brought the Mrs, I see. Yennefer, you look stunning as always.”

“Words that have left your mouth countless times tonight, I’m assured.” Her arm falls from Geralt’s, to rest at her side as she shifts her weight onto one high-heeled, boot clad foot. “In any case, though, happy birthday.”

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”  


“Torturous, actually.” And she floats away, towards the thin, pale girl serving ale and wine behind the countertop. And when she returns, she finds Geralt already sitting at a table surrounded by old acquaintances. She remains motionless at the sight, wondering where she fits in. As she passes up the table to take a place in an unoccupied spot, his hand darts out between the close bodies and his arm wraps around her waist, dragging her back to him. The eager consorts that have gathered around, all begging for a new gruesome tale from the Witcher, are impelled to the side to make room for Yennefer.

She falls gracefully onto his thigh, taking up residence on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She can feel his heavy arm tighten around her midsection, and she squirms against him until she’s made herself comfortable. After a moment and a few sips of her wine, she leans back to whisper something in his ear.

“You’ve never been the type for public displays,” she comments. His hand comes up to brush her curls away from her face, giving him access to her creamy neck. She can feel the eyes of jealous common girls from across the room, and finds immense pleasure in it. 

“You’re too beautiful not to show off.” His voice is deep and low in her ear as he reaches for his own mug of mead. 

“Cease with the awkward compliments. You’re not even drunk yet.”

—

The frame rocks violently with every roll of her hips, and his fingers digging into her thighs does nothing to dampen the growing desire coiling in her tummy. Their lovemaking had always been passionate and fierce, in every sense of the word, but tonight… something was different.

In a good way.

She had refused to let him flip her onto her back. Pushing him to lay back forcefully on the bed, he had smirked when she hovered over him, lacing her fingers with his and pressing their hands into the mattress, above his head. 

He knew he could overpower her at any moment. All he’d have to do is push against her hands, wrap his arms around her, and spin them over… at least… he thought.

She had released his hands to steady herself better on his wide, hard chest. The itch to touch her was overwhelming as he lay helpless beneath her, watching her ride out her pleasure with perfect, bouncing breasts and a flushed face. But as he tried to lift his hands from the bed, it felt as if a thousand boulders had pinned him to the mattress. 

“Yen,” he warns, nearly growling her name. 

But she pays no mind to him, moan after moan spilling from her lips as she rises and falls onto him, over and over again. 

He throws his head back in frustration of not being able to touch her, and squints his eyes at the sight. Surely it’s not…

“Yen!”

“What!?” Her eyes open briefly, and catch sight of their wooden headboard, which is now on fire. “Damnit!”

**Author's Note:**

> Still hope you all like my writing! Sorry that it was so short. I just like to write cute, little Geralt/Yen moments. Someone send me some more prompts to write! :D


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